


Experience V

by padawanhilary, Telesilla



Series: Experience [5]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-06
Updated: 2004-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padawanhilary/pseuds/padawanhilary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam wants something a little more structured and Orlando's not about to say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experience V

It's another few days before they can talk; Liam waits till they're off completely because he's wanting to make certain (or as certain as he can) there won't be any concerns about early or unexpected set call.

So after the shooting's done for the day, he approaches Orlando quietly and offers a smile. "Would you want to come over tonight? Thought I'd get takeaway." He lets the smile drop, hoping Orlando will catch that it's important.

This isn't just an offer for another evening of rough sex and beer, and as Orlando agrees, he can't help worrying a little. Is this the "it's been grand, but you're just too young" speech? He doubts it somehow -- he's that sure of Liam -- but he still can't help wondering if he's been reading the other man all wrong.

He's done his best to talk himself out of the concerns when he arrives at Liam's suite with a six pack of the Spanish beer they've both grown quite fond of.

Liam opens the door, pleased as always to see Orlando. But that doesn't touch on what's really going on: that Liam's increasingly pleased every time Orli shows up. That that's exactly why they have to have this talk tonight.

He waves Orlando inside and smiles. "Come sit."

"Hey," Orli says, with a grin that doesn't begin to reflect how good it is to see Liam, even after seeing him all day. "What's up?" he adds, moving to sit down.

"Oh..." Liam shrugs and grins back. "Thought we should talk about some things. Some of what happened the other night." He pauses to take up two of the beers and open them before adding, "The night I put my fist in you."

Something about the way Liam says that in his soft, rumbling voice makes Orlando go all hot. "God," he says after a slight gasp. "Warn a guy maybe?" He shakes his head, trying to be serious. "What about that night?"

Sitting down next to Orlando and passing off one of the beers, Liam says, "D'you remember saying 'yours'?" He tips his head down to look at Orli seriously. "I mean that you were telling me, in a way, you belonged to me."

"Oh that," Orlando says, and in spite of his attempts to convince himself that he wasn't worried, he feels the relief wash over him. "I meant it, even if I did say it in the middle of something that intense."

"I don't know that it's that simple, though," Liam murmurs, leaning in closer. "Did you mean it just then? Can you answer that honestly? Or does it hold right now, too?"

"I'm not sure what you're getting at," Orli admits. "I meant it in that I felt like I belonged to you right then. Like you were claiming me. And I still feel ... well, like an echo of it when I'm with you, if that makes sense. " _Great, just bloody perfect. I'm an inarticulate girl's blouse._

"If I decided to call you on that," Liam rumbles, leaning closer and looking at Orlando with a hot, heavy gaze, "right now, how would that feel?"

"What do you mean?" Orlando asks, genuinely confused. _How can he call me on a feeling?_

"I mean," Liam says slowly, "if I wanted to test that, the feeling of being _mine_, d'you think it would hold up?"

Although Orlando still feels as if Liam's talking to him about something complicated in Spanish -- in which language Orli can order beer and say please and thank you -- he nods. The idea of somehow being tested is hot and he's willing to go along with whatever Liam wants. Which, of course, might be the idea, he suddenly realizes. "Yes," he says firmly.

"Alright, then," Liam purrs, drawing back and plucking the beer out of Orlando's hand. "Let's see how you do with being 'my boy.'" And he's pushing too fast, he knows; this isn't how he'd intended for this conversation to go, but damn if he doesn't want to see how Orlando will handle it.

The emphasis Liam puts on the words "my boy" makes Orlando shiver a little in anticipation. "How," he begins and then has to pause to wet his lips. "How does that work?"

"I'd give you a word. When I speak that word, your job is to drop to the floor and kneel. We'd start slow; when I keep a boy, it begins with sex and then moves into areas that have nothing to do with sex at all." _Too fast,_ Liam thinks, but now the whole thing is snowballing and he's not sure he can stop it.

"You're talking about me being your ... well, slave," Orlando says, feeling a little slow that it took him this long to figure it out. "Aren't you?" he adds, his voice a little defiant.

Liam gives Orli that defiance, for a moment. "No." He pauses, reconsiders, and adds, "Not yet. There are degrees." _Not even I am ready for that,_ he has to admit to himself.

"And what degree is this?" Orlando says. Before Liam can answer he holds up a hand. "I'm not trying to get out of anything here," he says quickly. "I meant what I said, and if I'm not supposed to understand it at first, that's fine. I do trust you." For some reason just saying those words to Liam here and now seems even more intimate than any of the times Orlando's told someone he loved them.

"I think you do understand it," Liam counters quietly, watching Orlando, proud of him already for handling this so well. He thinks a moment and then amends, "At the same time, I'm not sure you will fully understand it until you've done it. It really isn't so much about the act; there's a difference between crawling across the floor because I tell you to and being aware that you're doing it _for me._"

"You're right there," Orlando says. "I don't know the difference." _But damn I want to learn,_ he thinks, looking at Liam hungrily. _I **want** this._

It's that look that gives Liam what he was looking for: now, days later, all it took to get Orlando back into that line of thinking was a nudge and a reminder. It wasn't just words in headspace. The knowledge pleases Liam immensely.

"I'd say I can teach you the difference," Liam goes on carefully, "but the understanding comes on its own, if things go well. You trust me to be careful, and I trust you to stop me if you start feeling like it's too much."

"I will," Orlando says. "I promise." And then, because he can only be serious so long, he grins up at Liam. "How much do I have to behave?" It's not exactly a challenge, and he wonders if Liam will take it as one. _If he does, then I've learned something._

Liam grins, though; later, words like those _will_ get viewed as challenging, but for now, they're still feeling their way around this. "Oh, I won't hold you to too much perfection yet." He leans in close, though, looming and darkening his expression. "It's later you'll be wanting to watch your tone, boy."

"Yes...." Orli's voice trails off. "What am I to call you?" he asks. "What are the rules?"

"You'll call me 'sir.' The rules are, I give the word and you get to your knees unless I tell you otherwise. From then on until the scene is over, you do as I tell you." Liam spreads his hands. "Unless you have questions, it's very straightforward. No tricks. I'm not trying to find ways to get you in trouble or punish you; it's not like that."

_Sir ... yeah I like that,_ Orlando thinks. "What..." he begins and then has to stop and lick suddenly dry lips. "What's the word?"

Liam smiles slowly. "'Play,' boy."

"'More relative than this: the play's the thing...'" Orlando quotes with a slight smirk. "I like the idea," he adds a little more seriously. "Like it a lot." A thought strikes him and he bites his lip. "Will you still make me beg?"

"Probably more," Liam purrs, and smiles. "Especially if you keep quoting lines at me, boy."

"I'm a pretentious git who's a little jittery from nerves," Orlando admits. He looks at Liam hopefully, knowing quite well that that _word_ will calm him right down, but not sure if he's allowed to ask for it.

Liam knows that look. He's seen it on plenty of boys just like Orlando--and he loves seeing it now. He lets the awkwardness stretch out a moment, taking a sadistic thrill from how needy Orlando has become, and how quickly.

Finally, after a long pause, he breathes "Play," very softly, relishing it.

Sure that his knees would break if he went down any faster, Orlando moves off the sofa and kneels in front of Liam. He's not sure what to do with his hands, or even how he should kneel, but he's confident that Liam will tell him. _God,_ he thinks. _God this is...._ But even in his mind the words aren't there and so he takes a deep breath and just waits.

Liam stands. One thing he's never minded much is using the often-unfair advantage of height. Now, with Orlando on the floor, Liam's looming is deliberately intimidating.

"Put your hands on your thighs," he says, voice staying down in that low, purring register, "and spread your knees. Lower your eyes. Straighten up. You're in service, but that doesn't mean I want to see you curling up like a beaten child." _That's a whole separate fantasy we're just not ready to address._

"Yes Sir," Orlando murmurs, correcting his posture until he thinks he's where Liam wants him. The way his knees are spread makes him even more aware -- as if he needed to be -- of just how much he's getting off on this and it's hard to keep his eyes down, hard not to look up to see if there's a hint of approval in those blue eyes.

There isn't; not in Liam's eyes, anyway. He shifts, adjusting himself in his khakis and staring down almost coldly. If Orlando looks up right this instant, he'll see something quite forbidding, and that's where the real test lies. Liam's done the responsible introductory bit, and now it's all up to Orli.

The silence goes on a moment, long enough that it always seems to Liam that it would be clear that the boy is supposed to squirm nervously in it. At last he murmurs, "Good. Now look at me."

It's actually be a struggle not to squirm, but Orlando can call upon long months of learning to be an elf and then being an elf, and elves don't squirm. Nor do they fidget or twitch or do any of the other little body movements that Orli really wants to be doing right now out of sheer nerves and excitement.

When Liam tells him to look up, he does, feeling like the man in front of him just goes on forever. By the time his gaze reaches Liam's eyes, Orli is dry mouthed and even more nervous. The affable, if somewhat high handed man who's been fucking Orlando into the mattress over the last few weeks is gone and in his place is someone else, someone Orlando doesn't really know. "Sir," he says, pleased that, while softer than he would have liked, his voice doesn't shake.

God, and Liam could toss off for weeks to the sound of that voice, that small voice, addressing him like that.

"I want you to fetch me a drink," Liam says, eyes boring into Orlando's. "How you do it," he adds pointedly, "is up to you." And he sits down again, crossing his arms over his chest and stretching his long legs out before him and crossing them, too.

Just before Orlando moves to get up onto his feet, he thinks about what Liam said. He looks to the minibar which is only across the room, but which looks, given what he's thinking of doing, like it's a good five miles from him. _Five miles of hot gravel._

"Yes Sir," he murmurs, turning a little and going down to his hands. _I don't know if I can do...._ But before the thought is complete, he's suddenly crawling across the room and the only thing making it difficult is that he's so hard right now that it hurts. Trying to ignore the distraction, he makes his way to the minibar and stands up. Liam's drink of choice is scotch, neat if it's the good stuff, over ice with a splash of soda if it's not, and Orli's glad to see that there's still some of the good stuff.

There's no way he's crawling back with a glass of scotch -- _unless I had a tiny keg like one of those St. Bernard's_ \-- so he walks back carefully, keeping his eyes down and then kneels, offering up the scotch and hoping desperately that he's done the right thing. _I could have been more graceful maybe. And maybe there's something I missed._

"Christ Almighty," Liam whispers without meaning to, and has to resist swallowing hard. And then he's having to resist the urge to grab Orlando to him and kiss him and fuck him into the floor. But luckily, Liam's had boys before who've given him experience in resisting such urges. He's never had anyone this bloody beautiful do it, though. "Christ," he whispers again, and nods. "Good boy."

Liam's response is everything Orlando could have hoped for and he smiles widely, utterly thrilled. _And when did making him happy becomes so important?_ he wonders. And it is important, given a choice between Liam shoving him down on the floor for a good rough shag, and getting to see and hear Liam sound that impressed and pleased, Orli would take the latter.

Liam remembers belatedly to take the drink from Orli. "That's a good start, boy," he gets out. "Now get naked and get on the bed. I want you on your hands and knees." And then, just for sheer perversity, he adds, "I'm going to lick you till you beg for it."

 

"Yes Sir," Orli says with a shiver. He slips out of his clothes as gracefully as he can without standing up and then cralws over to the bed, a little surprised to find himself wondering if practising would be a good idea. _Wow, Bloom, you're taking this a bit far._

Once on the bed, he settles himself on his hands and knees, and arches a little. "Please Sir?"

Christ, but the sight of Orlando arching and posing for Liam's benefit is nearly enough to throw him over the edge. "Perform for me, first, boy," Liam says out of sheer perversity, sitting down in a chair and making a bit of a show in grabbing his crotch. "Let me see why you're worth all this."

Staying on one hand, Orlando turns and looks over his shoulder, smiling at Liam before. "Yes Sir," he says, and slowly pushes two fingers in his mouth, sucking and licking them as lasciviously as he can. Once he's got them good and wet -- _and isn't it interesting how much better this feels when I know someone's watching_ \-- he reaches back, twisting a little before slowly pushing both fingers inside himself.

Even though he knows what's coming and is as relaxed as one can be when the man one calls "sir" is watching, he still feels the faint burn as his fingers go in. Remembering that Liam wants a performance, Orli is rougher than he might be were he doing this alone. Gasping as he works both damp fingers into his arse, he can't help feeling that the whole thing is more than a little surreal. _Here I am in a hotel room in Spain shoving my fingers up my bum while Liam Neeson, of all people, watches me. And I'm loving every minute of it._

"Good boy," Liam purrs. He kneads at his cock through his trousers some more, then leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Bet you'd go on and fuck yourself with me watching, wouldn't you? You want it that bad." He smiles a smile that's all in his eyes, a little distant, almost cold.

"If you wanted me to," Orli says, feeling himself go a little red in the face. "God Liam .... sir. Whatever you want."

"I know," Liam agrees, smiling a bit more. "Get your fingers out of yourself, now. I want to see you toss off. But don't come. Don't you dare come, boy. Get right to the edge and then stop."

"Yes Sir," Orlando says, thinking that it won't take much with Liam being all stern and distant like that. _Why does that turn me on so much?_ he wonders as he reaches for his cock, moaning as he begins to stroke it slowly.

Liam watches closely, almost scrutinizing. His eyes roam back and forth between Orlando's cock and his face. Rubbing at his cheek thoughtfully, he nods at a particularly hot series of noises as though he were watching a fine piece of performance art.

_I am,_ he thinks, after a fashion. _And very fine performance art, at that._

"Please," Orlando says, gasping. "Need to stop for a moment, Sir." It didn't take him long to get here, hovering on the edge of an orgasm and wanting for Liam to just fuck him into the mattress.

"Stop, then," Liam says almost carelessly, as though it makes no difference to him. He brushes a nonexistent speck of lint from his khakis and then raises his eyes to Orlando's again, but it's clear he's not going to fuck Orlando any time soon. "Let me know when you're ready to go again, boy."

 

_God, he's trying to fucking kill me._ Orlando hangs his head for a moment, breathing hard as he tries to get himself under control again. Remembering what Liam said about wanting to see gives him an idea and he looks over at Liam. "Please Sir, may I kneel up?"

"Yes," Liam says, tilting his head. "And turn toward me. Fully. I want to see it all." And once Orlando's done that, Liam gives him another brief respite before ordering, "Now start again."

"Yes Sir," Orlando says, taking care to stroke himself slowly. He licks his lips, and then licks the fingers of his other hand before dropping it down to pinch and tug at one of his nipples. Tossing off's never been this amazing, never been this good, and Orlando knows damn well that it's Liam watching him now that makes it amazing.

"Stop," Liam orders. "Get the lube from the nightstand and use that. And don't just toy around with it, boy. I want to see you gettin' into it. You fuck that hand."

_God,_ Orlando thinks as he reaches for the lube. _How in hell am I going to last three seconds with him talking like that?_ He doesn't warm the lube in his hand before reaching down to grab his cock, and the shock of the cold lube helps him maintain some control as he holds his hand still and moves his hips. But the lube warms up fast and the idea that he's doing this soon has him gasping and panting, looking at Liam in desperation. _Thank God there's not a mirror in here; I don't know that I could bear seeing myself._

"Tell me what you're thinking about, boy," Liam says gruffly, leaning forward again and folding his hands together, knees on his elbows. "What's going through that slutty mind of yours?"

"Just that," Orlando says. He takes a deep breath, trying to concentrate enough to make sense. "What you said, Sir ... that I must look like a right slut."

"You do." Liam shrugs and spreads his hands. "You are." But there's that smile again, this one wider and more pleased than before. "My slut." And that has such a fine ring to it that Liam nods at the tone, a bit smug over it. "I like that."

Orlando likes it too, but the real problem is that his cock seems to like it even more. "Please," he moans, his hips slowing. "Oh God, please Sir. Need ... please let me...."

"Stop," Liam orders quickly. "Put your hands on your thighs and leave them there." He watches Orlando a moment, taking in the sight of his glistening cock, tensing and twitching, and his flushed, desperate face. He pauses again, adjusts himself casually, gives himself a lengthy stroke, and leans back.

This time, when he orders Orlando to touch himself again, he stands up over the bed and looks down his nose. Now he's watching Orli struggle through, and it's faster, now, before Liam has to make him stop again. God, but Liam adores the sound of the boy's quick, short breaths and the little whimpering groans he's letting out. He loves how Orlando's shaking with it. He especially loves those pleading, desperate eyes trained up on him.

So he does it once more: he makes Orlando start again, this time driving him that much closer, that much harder, before stopping him for the last time.

Orlando's world has narrowed down to his own hand on his cock, and that deep whiskey and cigarette voice as it tells him what to do. He knows he looks more and more needy, knows his voice is beginning to break with the strain, and it's all so fucking good that he's not sure he can stand it. But Liam wants him to stand it and right now, disappointing Liam would be worse than not coming. Stunned that he's managed so far, he rests his hands on his thighs, fingers digging into his skin, and looks up at Liam. "Please," he whispers, not sure that he knows any other words now. "Please...."

Liam shakes his head, glowering dangerously. "Don't you come, boy," he growls, and unbuckles his belt. His hands work open his trousers right in front of Orlando's face. He can think of a use or two for that mouth right there, but not this time. Orlando deserves a good, hard fucking, and frankly, Liam's had done with waiting. He gives himself a cursory stroke for Orlando's benefit, then reaches into the nightstand to grab a condom.

"Knees and elbows," he orders gruffly, and moves behind Orlando once he's in position. He slicks the outside of the condom and shoves two fingers into Orli abruptly, twisting his hand. "You're a good boy." His voice is soft, now, and affectionate. "Fuckin' lovely boy." He's staying away from the boy's prostate and the prep is quick and dirty, and then he's got his covered cock in his hand and is pressing against Orli's hole, one hand on Orli's hip to steady him.

"Please," Orlando says, amazed that he can still speak. "Please fuck me ... please, want you cock in me so much. Please Sir." He arches his back, doing his best to present his arse to Liam. He can hardly think for wanting it; his whole body is almost shaking with need.

That filthy pleading is nearly Liam's undoing. "More of that," he groans as he shoves in, gripping Orli's hips hard and setting up a fast rhythm. "Beg me for it, boy." And he's dimly aware there's not much good in begging when you're getting the thing you're begging for, but it's so fucking good to hear.

"Shove it in me," Orlando gasps. "Please ... oh God please Sir. Need it ... need to feel you fuck me ... need your prick slamming in me...."

"You've...got it, boy," Liam grunts out, fucking Orlando all the harder, a reward for his gorgeous groveling. He wraps a broad hand over Orli's shoulder and yanks him back, shaking them both with the force of his thrusts. "Good--" he manages to get out before the praise dissolves into a groan; he comes hard, his thrusts slowing until he has to stop completely, buried in Orli's ass, still twitching.

_Fucking hell,_ he thinks, breathing hard and wanting to just collapse on Orlando's back. Not yet, though. This boy's due an orgasm.

Pulling out abruptly, Liam reaches under Orlando for his forearms and yanks them both back, throwing Orli forward onto his chest. He grips both Orlando's wrists, drawing them around to the small of his back and holding them there in one hand, crossed together. Then he reaches under what little space is left between Orli's hips and the bed and grips that hard shaft, stroking it violently.

"Come, boy," he breathes.

With a strangled scream that's partially muffled by the mattress, Orlando's hips jerk once, thrusting his cock hard into Liam's calloused hand. Liam's grip is tight, both on Orli's cock and on his wrists; Orli hurts all over and that only serves to make the orgasm more powerful when it happens and Orlando screams into the bed once more before going completely and utterly limp under Liam.

Letting out a low, pleased hum, Liam lets Orli go, gently easing his hand from around Orlando's cock and nudging him onto his side. "That was grand," he whispers, taking just enough time to strip the condom off and wipe his hand before moving down alongside him to tug the boy up into his arms and cradle him. "Good boy. Very good boy." He passes his hand down Orlando's back in long, soothing strokes for a moment before drawing the blanket up over them both.

Now that it's done, Orlando can't help the shivers as he comes down from the adrenaline and endorphine rush. He clings tightly to Liam, chest heaving as he tires to get his breath. "God," he mutters. "Oh God ... oh God."

Nodding, Liam wraps Orlando up in his arms more tightly. "It's alright, Orlando," he whispers. "I've got you. It's alright. All done now, and you were perfect. God, you were gorgeous. It was so good. Such a very good boy." He continues in this vein, just murmuring nonsense--only it _isn't_ nonsense. Every word of it is true. Orlando was perfect--the best boy Liam's had in a long, long time. Perhaps the best behaved and most eager boy ever, especially considering this was his first real taste of it.

Grateful that Liam didn't think he was totally freaking out, Orlando lets the soothing sound of Liam's voice calm him down. "That was ... God I can't find the words Sir. It's been so good with you but this... this was better."

Liam smiles, but it's pleased and fond rather than amused. "Was it, now?" he asks. "That's good. I'm glad for that. I thought you were amazing, Orlando. You're perfect for this."

"I am?" Orlando says, relaxing a little more in Liam's arms. "I want to be perfect for you. I really do," he adds pulling back a little to look directly into Liam's eyes. "I don't want you to regret making me your boy." He knows he sounds a little proud, but there can't be anything wrong with that.

Liam watches Orlando a moment. "I appreciate your pride," he murmurs, stroking Orli's cheek, "but you'll be wanting to be careful with that." He smiles a little wickedly, dragging his fingertips down over Orli's throat and adds, "Pride's a sin in a boy."

"It is?" Orlando asks. "Even if I'm proud to belong to you?" He's probably pushing it, but Orlando's never been comfortable with boundaries until he's mapped them out thoroughly.

"Even so," Liam nods. "Feeling it is one thing. Putting it on display...that can get dangerous." He hardens his tone in example and adds, "_Property_ doesn't have pride, boy."

"Property," Orlando murmurs. "I like the sound of that. Sir," he adds hastily.

"Good," Liam murmurs, both in praise of Orlando's formality and gladness that being referred to as property didn't scare him off. "We'll see how you do. I'm thinking you'll be hearing a lot more where that came from."


End file.
